


Love Finds A Way

by Kimium, ObscureReference



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Getting Together, Ice, Laslow fretting, M/M, Needles as Dangerous Weapons to Laslow, One Shot, Post Revelations route, Sleeping Beauty AU, Xander looking a curse in the eyes and saying "not today"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 13:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14261535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimium/pseuds/Kimium, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: Post Revelations Route. Sleeping Beauty AU"Regna Ferox was cursed.Not just a specific place, like a city or a town or a village, but the entire land. Legends had been passed down over the centuries, whispers and stories over dying campfires or around dimly lit tables. The tales varied, by and large, but one thing at the end was certain: Regna Ferox was cursed."Laslow has done his best to avoid activating the curse, but of course, things in life never go smoothly for him.





	Love Finds A Way

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, Kimium here!
> 
> Wow, a FE Fates story, and a co-written one with ObscureReference? It's like my dream come true for me! If you haven't read some of Obscure's other works, go check them out! She's a fantastic writer! 
> 
> This AU came about a few days ago when we started to chat on tumblr. One thing lead to the other and next thing that happened was us starting this story. I had a ton of fun writing this! Adding elements and having someone else to bounce off was a real joy and pleasure. I'm in love with this story, and I hope you all enjoy it too!
> 
> If you want to check me out on my tumblr its right [here](http://www.kimium.tumblr.com). 
> 
> ObscureReference here! Kimium is a super cool author, and I had a ton of fun writing this with her too! You guys should check out her other fics as well because they're super creative and I'm a big fan, so I guarantee you guys will enjoy them too! So check them out after you finish this!
> 
> My own tumblr can be found [here](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com).

Regna Ferox was cursed.

Not just a specific place, like a city or a town or a village, but the entire land. Legends had been passed down over the centuries, whispers and stories over dying campfires or around dimly lit tables. The tales varied, by and large, but one thing at the end was certain: Regna Ferox was cursed.

It lived in the earth, mainly. Some said it was because of the snow, because of the layer of frost that had settled over the earth and never melted, even in the height of what Regna Ferox called “summer,” leaving everything unfortunate enough to be caught out in the cold for too long frozen and trapped between the heavy snow and the unyielding permafrost. Old magic clung to itself in spaces like that, in spaces where it felt trapped, until it eventually found itself just as numb as the land and desperate to squeeze through any gap in the ice to cling to warm human bodies for survival. Over time the cold seeped in into the magic so much that the magic itself had transformed into something cold and unforgiving. Maybe it hadn’t begun that way, some said. But as surely as the sun would rise and the skies above Regna Ferox would snow, it had ended up like that.

It wasn’t that the old magic made Regna Ferox unnaturally harsh and unforgiving, because Regna Ferox was like that naturally. It wasn’t that the magic kept the land from sprouting bountiful harvest or wrapped its residents in blankets of snowfall until they succumbed to it all on particularly chilly nights, because that was a mere result of existing so far north. And it wasn’t that the magic stole babies from their cribs or swallowed lonesome souls into the darkness on its own, because that was understood to be a result of desperate creatures, terrible winters, and a combination of bad luck and foolishness.

No, the twisted magic in Regna Ferox had nothing to do with any of those things.

It had to do with the spirits.

No one was exactly sure what the spirits looked like. Many artists and writers tried to capture their essence on paper, but no one had actually seen a spirit. The illustrations varied from small pixie like creatures with mischievous smiles, to grand formless energy balls, radiating power. But one thing that connected all the illustrations together was the snow and cold, the ice and the sucking out of heat.

The spirits, as the stories told, were creatures of the ice, of the blistering cold winters and the bitter winds. The spirits were in the blizzards and the snow fall, of the hoarfrost that lined trees in the morning to the icy tundra up the mountain sides. The spirits were the avalanches and snow ins.

Every year during winter someone was bound to die due to the exposure, but not because of the spirits. People didn’t need help from the spirits to die, and the spirits didn’t waste their time on killing random people like a checklist, and most certainly didn’t waste time directly targeting someone. The spirits weren’t benevolent, passing judgement and retribution upon the people of Regna Ferox.

If someone died due to the weather, that was simply a tragedy.

No, the spirits could only be linked to a curse.

It was a curse so ancient that no one remembered the origins, but that didn’t matter to the people of Regna Ferox. For they knew, that no matter how many festivals, rituals, and ceremonies they performed, no matter how many feasts and offerings they gave to the land, a child could be born cursed.

Children grew up on the tales, always hearing them when they were still too young to fully comprehend the warning. It was like an urban myth passed by eavesdropping or under sheets at night, like illicit stowaways.

There were many names for the curse—Icy Death, Eternal Slumber, Sleep, but no matter what they called it, the people of Regna Ferox knew that one wrong prick, one wrong touch of a needle, and it was over.

“Metal,” one story had said. “Because the spirits were angry that people were ripping the precious minerals from the Earth’s belly like a child untimely born.”

In the end, the details didn’t matter. Reality did. And the reality was, those unlucky enough to be cursed would fall into a deep sleep, soon encased in an ice that couldn’t be thawed out.

A coffin, made of ice and glass, forever separated from their loved ones. Because that’s what the spirits were—they were snow and ice and winter and cold.

And the people of Regna Ferox were cursed.

~

 

“Oh no,” Laslow said, the words slipping out on instinct. He was already trying to think of a good excuse.

Xander, misinterpreting the slip, merely raised an eyebrow.

“I understand if you have a few reservations about working so closely with Hoshido so soon after the war,” he said. “But we have been working together well on the battlefield, so off the battlefield should be no different. I know Oboro has been somewhat…” Xander momentarily paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. He continued, “ _vocal_ about her distaste for Nohr, but I have been assured she holds the utmost professionalism. Having a Hoshidan tailor assist in the designing and tailoring of the official dress for the Nohrian royalty and their retainers during the signing of the peace treaty would act as a huge symbol to the people for bridging the gap between Hoshido and Nohr.”

Xander paused, looking at Laslow coolly. “Unless you have some _other_ reason you believe meeting with Oboro would be a bad choice.”

He was clearly referring to Laslow’s penchant for flirting and his “incredible inability to restrain himself, no matter the situation,” as Xander had once dryly described it. Which wasn’t true in the slightest. Laslow thought he restrained himself an awful lot, actually, especially considering he’d only tried inviting Xander to tea once last month. Xander’s response had been an unusually long pause and a pointed comment that Xander had many responsibilities to tend to before the upcoming treaty and if Laslow wanted tea, he was free to wander down to some shops this evening, so long as he didn’t make too much of a fool of his position serving the crown with any women on the way and made sure to finish his own duties beforehand. All punctuated with a sigh, of course.

Anyway, that was beside the point. No matter what Xander thought, Laslow was certain a woman like Oboro would send his heart pounding, though not for the reasons Xander likely suspected.

“Of course we’re both professionals,” Laslow said slowly, floundering for an excuse. “It’s just… Ah, well…”

Luckily, that was the same moment Peri stopped toying with the small dagger Xander allowed her to keep on her person while in the castle, provided she did not needlessly go around stabbing people. Of course, because Peri’s definition of “needless” and the rest of the world’s differed, Xander had then handed Peri a list that explicitly detailed all the reasons she could _not_ stab people. The “people Peri is allowed to stab” column had basically amounted to “Someone is actively attempting to murder you.” Needless to say, explaining this all to Peri had taken an extended afternoon and had nearly given Laslow heart palpitations. But she enjoyed keeping the extra knife on her person, and so long as nothing came of it, it was fine.

In any case, gently tapping her forefinger against the tip of the blade and spinning it between her fingers as Laslow floundered could only entertain her for so long, and so it was just Laslow’s luck that Peri chose that exact moment to chime in with, “Don’t worry, Lord Xander! I’ll make sure that tailor lady doesn’t try anything weird! If she does, I’ll kill her for you.”

Laslow coughed.

“Thank you, Peri,” Xander said. “but I don’t believe any killing will be necessary. In fact, I expressly forbid killing anyone, especially an Hoshidan official and retainer to Prince Takumi, unless she actively attempts to kill you first." 

“Aww.” Peri pouted. “Sorry, Laslow! If you’re still scared of being attacked, I can be with you for your tailor appointment if you want." 

“Thank you,” Laslow said, grimacing. “But I’m not afraid of being attacked.”

Peri cocked her head in exaggerated confusion, wrinkling her nose. Everything Peri did was expressive. “You’re not? Then how come you don’t wanna meet her?”

“Yes, Laslow,” Xander said, looking at Laslow directly. “Why are you reluctant to let Oboro tailor your clothes for the good of Nohr?”

Xander had played the “for the good of Nohr” card. There was little to no chance Laslow would be able to worm his way out of this one, but he tried anyway.

“Well,” Laslow began. “it’s just that you said we have to be personally tailored. And we can’t just drop off our clothes and leave.”

“So?” Peri asked. Xander waited expectantly.

“Ah, the thing is... “

There was no good way to say it. Laslow wished Peri would chime in again or Xander would get distracted so he could make a quick escape, but nothing happened.

After a long moment where Laslow’s hopes were crushed to dust, he finally said, “I’m afraid of needles.”

That was as close to the truth as he’d allow himself to say.

“What!” Peri exclaimed, too loudly. Laslow winced, not just because of the volume. Peri pushed her face closer to Laslow’s as though inspecting him closely, and Laslow tried his best to duck away without flailing too much. “No way! But you fight so good with a sword!”

Laslow rolled his shoulders, looking towards the window across the room and not at their faces. “Swords aren’t needles.”

“But swords can make you bleed so much more! They’re way better for killing. How come needles scare you?”

“Yes,” Xander said, finally speaking up. Laslow’s heart leapt at his voice. “How is it you’re so effective on the battlefield when you claim you’re afraid of a tiny needle?”

His voice was tinged with disbelief.

“Come on now,” Laslow said, embarrassed. His own words may have sounded closer to a whine than he was willing to admit. “It’s not like I’m not scared on the battlefield either, you know. I _do_ care for my life.” Peri opened her mouth to say something else, but Laslow quickly continued with, “Besides, I can’t help it if I have a phobia. And I have some nice clothes in my closet that I only break out on special occasions. Lord Xander, please?”

He looked up at Xander hopefully, doing his best impression of Peri’s puppy-dog eyes. They certainly seemed to come naturally to her. 

Sadly, his own begging didn’t seem to have the same effect. Or if it did, Xander certainly didn’t make it known.

Xander sighed. Laslow couldn’t tell if Xander believed him or not, but he at least seemed to accept that Laslow wasn’t going to budge on his fear when he said, “Phobia or not, I’m afraid this is nonnegotiable. You must report to Oboro this afternoon for your appointment. That’s an order.”

An order. Laslow felt his heart sink and pound furiously against his rib cage all at the same time. There was no way he could wiggle out of this, not with the look and tone Xander was sporting. He was backed into a corner with no other option but to listen to Xander and go to Oboro.

His heart skipped a beat painfully. Laslow forced air through his nose and out his mouth. All he could do now was go, and pray that it would be over quickly, painlessly, and without incident.

 ~

 

The time for his appointment rushed at him, like all events that one wished to avoid. Laslow swallowed and felt his hands shake, palm sweaty and clammy. The shake soon rolled up his arms, over his shoulders, and through his entire body. Squeezing his hand so tightly he could feel his nails dig into the soft flesh, Laslow wished, not for the first time, that he could just run away. Unfortunately that was not something he could do.

Forcing his arm up, Laslow gave a couple quick knocks on the door and waited a moment before forcing his hand to grasp the handle and turn. The door effortlessly opened, silently, and Laslow sent one last prayer before he stepped inside.

The room was brightly lit, the windows ajar and the sunlight streaming in. Layers upon layers of fabric were neatly draped over furniture or fanned out on tables, revealing all the different tones, colours, and hues. An open fabric box sat on the floor exposing measuring tape rolls, scissors, pin cushions, thread, and needles. Laslow felt his gaze narrow down on the small metal, and he shivered.

Oboro stood in the center of the room. Along with her were a raised platform and a large set of mirrors. Her hair was messily done up and she wasn’t wearing any armor. That being said, her naginata was probably stashed somewhere in the room. At this point, Laslow didn’t care. He’d take a naginata stabbing attempt over a needle any day.

She was also scowling.

“Late,” she chided, her arms crossed heavily at her front, “I should have expected as much.”

Laslow bit the inside of his cheek. Be amicable, he thought, no provoking the woman who would be welding needles around him. “My apologies. I’m dreadfully sorry.”

Oboro’s eyes narrowed and her mouth opened, possibly to continue scolding him, but she snapped her jaw shut at the last moment. “Fine. We’ll just have to make up for lost time. Take off any bulky clothes and shoes. When you’re done, stand here.” She gestured to the raised platform.

Time to face the challenge ahead of him. Laslow’s fingers and hands shook as he took off his gloves. Setting those off the side, he went for his belt next, the cold metal biting against his fingertips as he clumsily removed it. He was thankful he remembered to not bring his sword to the appointment. Laslow felt naked without the blade at his side, but keeping peaceful negotiations and forming positive ties outweighed any potential attacks. He then took his vest off, revealing his button up shirt. Finally, Laslow took his shoes off, making sure they were neatly placed off the side before he faced the platform. Slowly, Laslow walked over and stood on top.

“Face this way,” Oboro instructed, gesturing to the mirrors, “We’ll start with measurements first.”

Laslow exhaled slowly and wordlessly nodded. Measurements… that meant no needles. He could handle this. Oboro was quick and professional with her movements as she measured him, only speaking when she needed him to lift an arm or turn at a specific angle. When she finished, she scribbled something down on parchment before moving onto the next bit. It gave Laslow time to gather his wits, to try to force his heart to stop beating against his rib cage.

“Onto fabrics,” Oboro half murmured to herself before she looked at Laslow, eyeing him. “Nothing too light…” she mused. “Any preference?”

“Um…” Laslow tried to think. “Blue?”

Oboro hummed and turned to the piles of fabric before her. Laslow shifted and watched as she expertly picked up some fabrics. A few of them looked solid, but when she held them up to the light, he saw other colours running through. Oboro also picked some with subtle patterns. All the colours ranged from blues to purples, though he also caught some neutrals like warm greys. When she brought them to him, she held them up to his body, silently staring.

“Too light,” she muttered for one before setting it aside. “At least you’re easier to outfit.”

“I am?” Laslow blurted.

Oboro raised an eyebrow. “Peri’s colourful hair makes matching a little more challenging.”

“Oh.” Laslow felt out of his league. If Selena was here, she’d understand.

“I think we’ll go with more of an indigo or deep purple,” Oboro announced.

Indigo. Laslow tried to not choke. Thankfully, Oboro didn’t notice. She draped the chosen fabric on a separate chair and then went to pick other fabrics, pulling creams and beiges, even some burnt golds. She then pulled out a pin cushion that strapped to her wrist. Laslow felt his blood drain from his face. He could see the colourful pins and some needles sticking out. His hands balled into fists, and Laslow opened his mouth to ask if this part was necessary but stopped himself. If Xander caught wind of him giving Oboro trouble…

“I need to pin some things,” Oboro told him. “Stand still so I don’t poke you.”

“Yes,” Laslow breathed out cautiously. Not that speaking cautiously would help him any.

Oboro walked over to him, and Laslow felt his knees shake and his heart threaten to rip through his rib cage. He exhaled and zeroed in on Oboro’s hands, on the needles. He barely felt the cool touch of fabric on his arms, but when Oboro reached for a pin he flinched violently, jostling her hold.

“I said stand still,” Oboro huffed.

“Right.” Laslow’s voice wasn’t squeaking.

She pulled out a few pins, and Laslow did his best to freeze in position. It was hard as half of his brain screamed to bolt and run far, far away. When Oboro finished putting the pins into place, Laslow breathed deeply.

“You look like you’re about to faint,” Oboro stated.

Did he? Laslow’s mouth felt dry. “It’s fine.”

Oboro didn’t say anything, but Laslow caught a gleam in her eyes, as though she was storing information. She then moved to the other side and began the same process. Laslow focused on her and tried to not think of the stories he had heard as a child. He tried to clear his mind on the present and the facts. Oboro was a professional. As long as he was still, she wouldn’t accidentally prick him. She wouldn’t do it out of spite either. Xander had been assured she was professional. Laslow chanted that silently in his mind. Anything, really, to keep himself grounded in the now and not think about the tales and stories.

When she finally finished, putting away the fabric and the pins, all of her measurements marked, Laslow wobbled off the wooden platform, his legs liquefied. His arms were uncoordinated as he tried to put his vest and belt back on.

“Hey,” Oboro suddenly called.

“Yeah?” Laslow whipped his head around, praying that she didn’t need something else.

“Try to relax next time, would you?” Oboro asked. “I’ve met chairs less wooden than you were today.”

 Relax… easier said than done. Still, Laslow numbly nodded in agreement. Anything to get out of this room. He needed to lie down.

 ~

 

Laslow did lie down after that, actually. He laid down for so long that he didn’t realize he was late for dinner until a streak of orange light from the setting sun crept through the gap in his window and irritated his eyes long enough to wake him up.

He ran a hand through his unkempt hair when he arrived to the dining hall, predictably late, hoping he looked more stylishly tousled and less like he’d barely had time to splash his face with water before rushing off. There had been no time for Laslow to check his appearance in a mirror before he’d left, but he had hope he didn’t look entirely like something that had crawled from the gutter. Besides, even though he was feeling better with some distance and a nap between himself and that afternoon’s events, he figured he had a good enough excuse for not looking his best.

Selena and Odin were halfway through dinner by the time Laslow sat down with a plate he managed to snag right before the kitchen closed up for the evening.

“You know we’re not at war anymore, right?” Laslow asked, eyeing Odin as he sat down. “You can take smaller bites. You’re not going to be ambushed.”

Odin said something in response, but his words were garbled around the fist-sized chunk of bread he’d shoveled into his mouth. Laslow rolled his eyes good-naturedly and took a bite of his own dinner.

Selena squinted at him. “Were you sleeping all day?”

Laslow groaned. “Am I that obvious?”

“Pretty much,” she said. Laslow took another bite of his rice and sighed.

Finally, Odin swallowed his own food. “Is there something that ails you, my friend? Your visage is nearly as pale as the light of yonder moon that watches over Nohr.”

The sense of normalcy that washed over Laslow at hearing Odin’s peculiar speech and seeing Selena’s familiar frown erased the last of the the jitters that had been sitting under his skin. Now he only felt tired, despite the unexpected nap.

“I’m fine,” Laslow said, his chin in his hand. “I just had a mandatory tailor appointment today for the upcoming ceremony.”

That was all he wanted or needed to say. Odin nodded seriously, and Selena eyed Laslow like she was searching for anything out of the ordinary. Satisfied that he looked disheveled but otherwise unharmed, she turned back to Odin and said, “You couldn’t have been more obvious about staring at Niles’s ass during sparring practice today if you tried.”

Odin and Laslow both choked.

Dinner progressed quickly along those lines. Laslow rushed to finish his food at the same pace as Selena and Odin so he wouldn’t have to eat alone. It was also so he could rush to get Xander’s food as well. Royalty were under no obligation to eat at the same time as the rest of the castle, of course, and the royals likely wouldn’t have dined in the public hall with the other retainers and servants even if they did. Laslow and Peri traded off bringing Xander his dinner in his quarters, just as Laslow was sure the other retainers did with their own lords and ladies. Xander preferred to eat later in the evening than the traditional dinner time set aside for the others—so he could get more work done before he took a break, he claimed, though Laslow thought Xander just worked on a delayed internal clock—so Laslow generally had ample time to eat his own dinner before serving Xander.

Today Laslow ended up being a little strapped for time due to his own late start, but by the time he managed to wet his hair to get the worst of his stray hairs settled and make his way to Xander’s room, he thought he’d managed to arrive right on time.

He knocked respectfully on Xander’s door, tray in hand. Laslow waited for permission to open the door before he entered Xander’s quarters. Even though Xander was never doing anything other than writing notes at his desk or studying battle formations on the modified map Prince Leo had given Xander some time back, Xander had chided Laslow and Peri for simply waltzing into Xander’s room without permission too many times to count for Laslow to want to risk blindly rushing in today. Not after already being scolded this afternoon.

“Thank you,” Xander said as Laslow set the tray on the side of his desk.

There was a small pile of books stacked on the opposite corner of the desk and one particularly thick volume already cracked open in front of Xander. The writing on the spine looked strange for typical Nohrian design, Laslow thought. That was when he realized it wasn’t a Nohrian book at all. It was a book from Hoshido for sure, though he couldn’t clearly read the small words scrawled across the page. Laslow’s squinting did little to decipher the words as he pushed the food tray far enough away from the edge of the desk that he was certain it wouldn’t fall off with one errant wave of the hand. He’d made that mistake before.

He caught Xander frowning from the corner of his eye and quickly averted his eyes. What Xander was reading was none of his business, he thought. It probably pertained to Hoshido’s traditions and society anyway.

Nohr and Hoshido were no longer at war, after all. With newfound peace between the kingdoms, there was more to learn now besides war tactics and weaponry. Xander was likely doing his duty as the new king by brushing up on Hoshido’s culture. Something that would help with the official signing of the peace treaty in the upcoming month.

Laslow’s stomach twisted at the reminder of the ceremony. He was ecstatic at the new peace, truly. King Garon’s unending conquest to destroy Hoshido had taken a toll on everyone, peasants and princes alike. It was just the clothing Laslow dreaded.

Or, he amended, it was not the clothing so much as the process that went into _making_ the clothing.

But it would be fine. Probably. Laslow just had to make it through the next few days of preparation, and it would be smooth sailing from there.

It was for the good of Nohr, as Xander had said. Symbolic peace. That was important. Laslow had taken larger risks for less.

He’d been quiet for too long, he realized belatedly.

“Sorry,” he said reflexively, taking a quick step away from the desk. “My thoughts were simply scattered for a moment, milord. Is there anything I can get for you?”

Xander was still looking at Laslow, though this time a little more thoughtfully. “How would you say your afternoon appointment went today?”

“Fine,” Laslow said, which was mostly honest. He was only mildly surprised Xander was asking. “Oboro was very professional, like you said. She seems to be a very skilled tailor. I’m sure Prince Takumi is proud to have her as a retainer.”

She’d been nicer than he’d expected for someone who held a rumored hatred of all Nohrians too. She’d chastised him a bit for being late, yes, but that had been his own fault. All in all, it wasn’t objectively a bad time, aside from Laslow’s own nerves. She certainly hadn't pricked him with any needles, at least.

Xander nodded. “I see. I’m pleased to note I did not receive any complaints of untoward behavior about you and Peri either.”

The long stare Xander gave emphasized the fact he really meant _especially you, Laslow_ , but thankfully Xander was much too professional himself to say so. Laslow considered this to be basically praise, so he beamed back at Xander. Suddenly it didn’t feel like such a bad end to the day after all.

“I’m glad to hear it, milord.”

“Unfortunately,” Xander continued, and Laslow quickly pressed his lips together, a little nervous about what he was going to say. “I did receive a notice that you were ten minutes late to your appointment. I do recall postponing all other mandatory duties for you at that time and telling you to make sure you accomplished everything necessary beforehand. Can you explain yourself?”

“Ah, I was simply… running behind,” Laslow said. That wasn’t really a lie, so long as one considered “running behind” to include pacing outside Oboro’s door for several minutes, afraid to knock. “My sincerest apologies, milord.”

“So I see.”

“It could have been worse,” Laslow said after a moment too long of Xander simply looking at him expectantly. “I could have skipped the appointment all together!”

He winked. Xander did not appear nearly as amused.

“Laslow.”

“Sorry,” he said again. He struggled to look sufficiently admonished.

Xander stared for a moment longer. Then he sighed, his fingers laced with each other and resting on the desk.  “With your phobia in mind, I am willing to give you a pass on being late today.”

Laslow perked up instantly, and he knew it showed on his face. Looking stern, Xander continued, “However, I will remind you that we are trying to make a _good_ impression on Hoshido. I’d rather not hear of anyone reporting back to either myself or Prince Takumi that one of our own was disrespectful of Hoshido’s time when acting on official business.”

“Even for clothes?” Laslow asked, knowing he was pushing his luck.

“Even for clothes,” Xander said flatly.

Laslow’s shoulders drooped. It would have been far-fetched for Xander to say he suddenly didn’t have to worry about reporting for tailoring appointments anymore, and yet part of him had almost expected it. It was the part of Laslow that was always foolishly hopeful.

“I understand,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” Xander said. “I hope to hear it.”

His actions reflected on Lord Xander’s character. Laslow had heard that reminder often enough. It was one thing to get scolded for flirting with too many barmaids, and it was another to reflect badly on Xander in real, important diplomatic events. Even if it was just getting some new clothes tailored.

He could do this. For Nohr. And especially for Xander.

“If that is all, milord,” Laslow said with a newfound determination. “I wouldn’t want your supper to get cold. I can be back in an hour to retrieve the dishes, if you wish.”

Xander nodded. “That would be fine, thank you.”

As Laslow turned to leave, he added, “And Laslow?”

Laslow turned back.

“Yes?”

“If you do find that your… phobia is overwhelming you,” Xander said slowly. “or anything else, for that matter, please feel free to speak to me about it. This is a stressful time for us all and I expect you to live up to the role of being the retainer I know you are, but I do not wish for you to suffer for it either.”

Laslow considered telling the truth. Very briefly.

He noticed how tired Xander looked, though his voice was too strong to betray him. There were faint bags under Xander’s eyes. The war was over and the official treaty between Nohr and Hoshido loomed ever closer, but there were still tasks to be done; the revealed kingdom of Valla had to be managed, victims of the war had to be served relief, the tangled web of the corrupted Garon’s actions had to be unweaved. It would be many more months or even years before Nohr suitably recovered from it all. The same could likely be said of Hoshido as well.

Xander was at the forefront of Nohr’s recovery, either leading every mission or at the very least being the first to hear about every new update with _these_ bandits and _that_ rebuilding effort and _those_ border disputes and on and on and on. He was doing everything under the sun that he could possibly be doing at any given time.

And still he found time to offer a friendly ear to Laslow should he need it.

Laslow’s heart swelled. Xander really was the best king Nohr could have ever hoped to have. The best everything.

That was precisely the reason Laslow found his throat swell at the thought of mentioning anything more to Xander.

Explaining Laslow's homeland, how he’d gotten to Nohr, the unchangeable truth that Xander would have undoubtedly attempted to change, stretching himself even thinner than he was already stretched...

Laslow simply lacked the heart and the courage.

“Thank you,” he said, sincerely. “I very much appreciate that, milord.”

“So long as you understand,” Xander said. Laslow did.

He opened the door.

“Make sure you eat up!” Laslow said, a little more brightly than strictly necessary. He loved to tease, and it did well for breaking the tension too. “And if you want, I can ask Peri to bake those fruit tarts of hers as well. Up and coming kings need the strength, you know.”

Xander may have sighed and said something else, but Laslow was already out the door.

~

 

It was a week before Laslow’s second appointment with Oboro came up. Similar to the last time, Xander cleared Laslow’s schedule, making sure he had a wide time frame to get his tasks done prior to his afternoon with Oboro. This time, however, Xander (gently) reminded Laslow about being punctual. Laslow had swallowed and nodded. He wasn’t going to mess this up. Xander had enough troubles on his mind as the date for the peace treaty signing was ever crawling towards them. Lately Xander had been staying up later and later. Laslow’s suspicions about brushing up on Hoshido culture and traditions had been confirmed when he spotted a maid whisking some traditional Hoshido tea sets up to Xander’s room. The tea sets had been a gift from King Ryoma after the war. Even Odin and Selena had become busier than usual, running errands and tasks for their lord and lady. Laslow wished time could slow down for just a little bit, so he could find the time to talk properly to Odin and Selena.

Not that talking about the tailoring session was going to help much. All the talking in the world wasn’t going to settle Laslow’s fluttering stomach and sweaty palms. His mind once again was racing in all directions, and it almost caused him to once again pace up and down the hallway outside of Oboro’s work room. It was only Xander’s words from earlier and the small reassurance that this was more of a tweaking session that helped Laslow open the door and enter on time.

“You’re here.” Oboro’s voice rang out clearly. “Let’s get started.”

Her hair was messier than the last time Laslow had seen it. Her eyes looked slightly rimmed red and droopy. As Laslow edged closer, he saw her yawn, covering her mouth politely. He didn’t comment. It had to be hard, creating outfits for not just the King, the Prince, and Princesses, but also their retainers. Laslow straightened up. Even if he had a fear, he could at least attempt to make this session as painless as possible, for the sake of both of them.

“Please take your shoes and bulky clothes off,” Oboro instructed. “Then stand here.”

Same as before. The similarity helped Laslow focus. He did as Oboro asked and when everything was neatly off to the side, he went and stood up on the platform, facing the mirror. Oboro gave a small tired smile before she went to grab something off the couch.

How she had managed such fantastic work in a short time left Laslow breathless. The shirt was a rich indigo colour, vibrant, and the fabric looked smooth and seamless. It took Laslow a moment to realize the shirt folded over, like traditional Hoshido wear, with wide sleeves. At the end of the indigo sleeves was a golden pattern. Laslow stared. It was the Nohrian crest, like the clasp part on Xander’s armour. The second layer, the one that was meant to be on the inside, was cream, allowing the colour to look brighter against the neutral tone. The pants were dark, but as Oboro moved it, Laslow could see it wasn’t black, but rather a mix with some navies and deep purples.

“Whoa,” Laslow blurted. “That’s amazing work.”

Oboro puffed her chest out a little bit. “I’m proud of this work too. Even if the silk screening for this pattern took longer than I expected.” A fond smile filled her face. “But it was worth it. Nohr has fantastic emblems and symbols passed down through the Royal Family for generations. I spent a while researching through the library and…”

Her cheeks pinkened a little, and she immediately cut herself off with a cough. “Anyways.” Oboro turned around walked over. “First, let’s see how this looks on you. I may have to do some alterations yet.” She then stood up on a stool Laslow hadn’t noticed before and lifted the shirt, like a parent would offer to help a child put on a coat.

Laslow carefully slipped his arms into the shirt and watched as Oboro lightly folded over the shirt, making sure the left side was over the right. She then stepped away and carefully examined him, her eyes darting and taking in Laslow’s form quickly. Nodding to herself, Oboro grabbed a quill and parchment, marking something down before she asked Laslow to turn around. He did as she asked, carefully. When she deemed it fine, Oboro then handed him the pants and pointed to a sectioned off area with folding panels.

“Please change into the pants back there,” Oboro said. “When you’re done, please come back here and stand on the platform.”

“All right.” So far, so good. No sign of any needle.

He went over to the sectioned off corner and quickly changed. Oboro had given ample space to change and privacy for the space she had to work with. When he finished, Laslow carefully walked out. The hem on the pants dragged a little bit, but Laslow managed to walk back to the platform without tripping. Oboro hummed like she had expected this and immediately knelt at his leg, gently touching the hem, pulling it up a little bit.

“I’ll need to pull this hem up a little bit,” Oboro mused to herself. “I’m going to pin this,” she told Laslow.

Laslow thickly swallowed. Pin this… that meant she was going to use some pins. Meaning needles. At his ankles. His legs stiffened and he tried to not squirm as Oboro turned to grab a small box of colourful pins. Forcing himself to not stare at Oboro as she worked, Laslow clutched his hand into a fist and breathed slowly, steadying his breath. It was fine, this was just a minor fix. Silently, Laslow also hoped Oboro didn’t expect him to take the pants off with the pins still in. That would be the end of him.

Thankfully Oboro pulled a small white piece of chalk out and carefully marked the hem in small dotted lines. She then moved onto the other leg, and Laslow had to force himself to breath deeply and not think about the pins at his ankles. When Oboro finished marking the hem, she took the pins out and Laslow felt his brain spin at the rate of oxygen that flooded his blood.

“Be careful taking the pants off,” Oboro instructed. “So the marks aren’t entirely rubbed off.”

“Right.” Laslow’s voice felt shaky, but if it was, Oboro didn’t say anything.

He returned to the back and carefully changed, folding the pants over his arm. Returning to Oboro, he handed the pants over to her. She took them silently and set the pants on the couch. She then held up the under shirt, the creme one.

“I need you to change into this,” she said. “The outer layer can be a bit loose, but the inner one needs to not be too loose,” she explained.

“Okay.” Laslow took the shirt.

He changed quickly and walked out, hoping he folded the shirt correctly. Oboro didn’t say anything again, though she gently straightened it out. Biting her lip, Oboro pulled at some of the fabric at Laslow’s waist before she suddenly pulled a pin out and jabbed it into the cloth. Laslow nearly flinched and ran away, but he managed to hold back and not scream.

Oboro continued her work, not commenting. It was the only saving grace that Laslow could hold onto. He let Oboro finish her work before he was told to change. Once it was deemed complete, Laslow wobbled out of the room.

His heart was pounding, but Laslow felt a weight escape his chest. Tailoring was mostly done. Unless there was so sort of small fix or last moment check up, he was done. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, Laslow practically bounced to his next task. There was still time before supper and the extra energy he received from not having to worry about needles surged through his system.

~

 

The signing of the peace treaty was nothing short of momentus, all things considered.

It had nothing to do with the flourish with which King Ryoma and Xander signed the document on stage, nor did the clothing seem to matter much in the end—though Xander looked so dazzling in his Hoshido-style outfit that was so dark purple it appeared nearly black that Laslow made an extra effort to pointedly look _away_ from Xander, lest Laslow somehow swallow his own tongue and make a fool of himself from looking too long.

Even though he and Peri stood in the back of the stage with King Ryoma’s own retainers and most everyone's eyes were drawn to the forefront of the stage, to the kings and the treaty signing rather than any of them, there were still too many eyes staring in Laslow’s direction for him to feel entirely comfortable. Laslow felt his body heat up by several degrees after only a few minutes on stage, and it had nothing to do with the comfortable warmth of Nohr’s summer sun.

In the end, the importance of the signing had nothing to do with the staring either. Or perhaps it did. Laslow doubted he had ever seen so many people in one place in his life, and that was including even the crowded markets of both Ylisse and Nohr that he’d wandered through before. It seemed as if people from all over had come—young and old, wealthy and poor, Hoshidian and Nohrian. People from all walks of life mixed in the crowd, and that was what mattered. Xander had been right all along, of course. The ceremony was a major focal point for uniting the people of both kingdoms, and it looked like they had accomplished that.

Hoshido had provided much of the clothing for the event and in exchange Nohr had set the scene, creating a fairly life-like bronze statue of King Ryoma and Xander shaking hands and dedicating it to the end of the war. It had already been unveiled and stood erect some feet away behind the stage, where it would remain—ideally—for the rest of time, serving as a reminder of the Hoshido-Nohr alliance.

The food, however, had been an effort on both kingdom’s behalf. Tables upon tables had been laid out near the edges of the gathering, and there were countless servants still bustling around with trays and cutlery and other items, even as speech after speech was being given on stage.

Laslow saw more than a few hungry guests eyeing the food, himself included. He hadn’t eaten any breakfast that morning. He was pretty sure Xander hadn’t either, despite his and Peri’s insisting, and so he’d abstained.

He hadn’t had much time anyway. He’d spent a lot of that morning making sure he didn’t get any stray dirt on Oboro’s clothes. They were very finely made, and Laslow found himself warming up to them despite the all the nervous sweats and nightmares that had gone into their creation—especially after Selena, wearing a very nice outfit reminiscent of the kimono she’d complained of losing years ago, commented that “he didn’t look half-bad after all.”

Admittedly, Laslow had blushed at that. Odin, clad in his own fine clothes that thankfully did not show off nearly as much chest as his regular outfit, had clapped him on the back and teased him about the pink tips of his ears.

It had been a very nice morning.

“Hey,” Peri whispered, only somewhat subtly elbowing him in the ribs. Laslow had grown so used to listening to the comforting lull of Xander’s voice droning on onstage that he couldn’t help but jump slightly at the sound of her voice. He glanced over, and Peri caught his eye. “You know we have to wait to eat, right?”

“I know,” Laslow whispered. He looked ahead, trying his best to appear cool and official and not like a guy who hadn’t eaten breakfast. He wasn’t sure he did a great job of inconspicuously whispering to Peri out of the corner of his mouth either. “Retainers and royalty last. This is about serving the public first.”

“Then how come you can’t look away from the food tables?”

Laslow barely swallowed his whine. It turned into a soft grunt in the end, and though Xander showed no outward acknowledgement of it, Laslow was sure he heard.

Even quieter than before, Laslow said, “Don’t tell me you had time to eat breakfast. Even if you did, you can’t tell me you aren’t hungry now. It’s already after noon.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Peri wink.

“I made scones, silly,” she said. “I thought I’d want a snack since Lord Xander said this would take a super duper long time.”

Her arm shifted, and to Laslow’s horror, he saw something distinctly scone-like peek out of Peri’s pocket. With a speed Laslow didn’t realize he possessed off the battlefield, Laslow’s arm struck out and grabbed Peri’s wrist, keeping her hand in her pocket.

“Okay, thank you!” he said, his whisper distinctly higher than it had been a moment ago. “But let’s not eat on stage, okay?”

“Duh,” Peri whispered back, sounding like she couldn’t believe what he was implying. “I _know_ we’re not supposed to eat on stage. Lord Xander said so.”

On the other end of the stage, Saizo and Kagero were giving them odd looks, clearly unimpressed by their not subtle whispering. Laslow smiled back, hopefully reassuringly. Then he turned his attention back to Peri.

“Sorry,” he said, releasing her wrist and folding his arms behind his back once more. He underestimated Peri sometimes, and he really shouldn’t have. “I didn’t realize Xander had already told you.”

“It’s okay,” Peri said. “We can share them after all the speeches and stuff are done, I mean.”

Laslow smiled at her. “Thank you, Peri. That’s very kind of you to offer.”

“Or, if the food line gets too long, I can just slice up the—”

Laslow’s stomach churned, and he cut her off with, “How about we share scones and don’t do any slicing, okay?”

Peri pouted. “Aww, okay.”

Her eyes flickered away from him, towards center stage, and suddenly Peri and the rest of the crowd was clapping, the soothing drum of Xander’s voice suddenly gone. Laslow blinked and looked ahead.

Xander had finished with his speech, apparently. Laslow clapped politely as King Ryoma stepped up to the podium, and though he didn’t say anything, Xander seemed to glance Laslow’s and Peri’s way as he turned away from the crowd.

If Kagero and Saizo had noticed their whispers, no doubt Xander had as well. Laslow steeled himself for some kind of chastising look when Xander turned to face them and, surprisingly, found none. Actually, if Laslow hadn’t known better, he would have sworn Xander sent them a tiny smile as he caught their eyes. It was gone so quickly that he couldn’t be sure. But Laslow found himself happily grinning back at the crowd and his king for the remainder of the ceremony anyway.

King Ryoma’s speech was no longer or shorter than Xander’s had been, but Laslow still found himself looking out into the crowd more than he was paying attention to the promises to unite both kingdoms to the best of their abilities, to reopen the borders between the two kingdoms and so on.

It wasn’t that Laslow didn’t care; he cared a lot, truth be told. Nohr was his home as much as it was anyone’s by this point. It was just that he had been there for most of the peace talks anyway, and he liked people watching more than listening to the same things he’d heard twenty times over already.

There was a sudden roar of cheers from the crowd, and Laslow, jumping, realized Ryoma was signing the treaty. He immediately began to whoop and clap with the rest of them, cheering even louder when Xander was handed the quill. Peri was right there in his ear, clapping and cheering just as loudly.

And with that, the ceremony aspect of the peace talks was over. The treaty was signed, the people were happy, and Laslow found himself following Xander and Peri off one side of the stage as King Ryoma, Saizo, and Kagero departed on the other.

Before Laslow had barely stepped off the bottom stair, however, he found himself being tugged off to the side by someone new. It took a moment to register to person grabbing his arm to be Oboro, and by then she was already opening up a small bag strapped to her hip and ordering him to stand still.

“Excuse me,” Laslow said, blinking. “what are you—”

She grabbed his wrist in a mimic of the way he’d grabbed Peri’s only minutes before and thrust his arm above his head. Oboro tugged his wide sleeves taught and fingered a small hole in the fabric, right near Laslow’s wrist. It was about the size of a coin, actually, but he had failed to notice it before now anyway.

Oboro let the fabric go and began to dig around in her bag, which Laslow only now realized appeared to be an emergency sewing kit. A pair of clean looking scissors peeked out from the lip of the bag, along with an assortment of threads, thimbles, tapes, and needles.

He swallowed.

Oboro positively _groaned_ as she examined the hole. “Ugh, I could see this all the way from my _seat_. This is absolutely embarrassing. You _have_ to let me fix this before anyone else notices.”

“Ah, well,” Laslow stammered. He’d been certain this whole tailoring mess was behind them. “You sat in the front row, after all. I’m sure nobody else noticed. I’d rather it not be a hassle for you, so we can just—”

He tried to pull his arm away, but Oboro’s grip was ironclad. A little “eep!” escaped Laslow’s throat as she looked up, her face twisted into something horrific.

“You _have_ to let me fix this,” she repeated.

Was this her rumored demon face? In that case, it truly was a sight to behold, and not in a good way. Laslow felt pinned to the spot.

“Okay!” he squeaked.

Satisfied, Oboro’s face relaxed and she began to dig around in her bag again, still keeping hold of Laslow’s wrist like she thought he was going to run away at any second. To be fair, he was considering it. Laslow looked around in hope of rescue.

Xander and Peri seemed to have finally noticed that he had fallen behind and stood only a few feet away, but Xander looked engrossed in a conversation with Ryoma, and Peri stood in the semi-circle Kagero and Saizo had formed around their lords, looking back at Laslow curiously. She made no move to save him from the sudden sewing hell he had entered, however. She merely took a scone out of her pocket and winked at Laslow before tucking it away again, as though keeping a secret or saying that she was saving it for him. It was a very kind gesture, but not the one Laslow had been hoping for.

He craned his neck. In the other direction, he could see the other princes and princesses of both kingdoms were making their way over to their location, Selena and Odin among them. As soon as Selena caught his eye and noted his wild look, she whispered something in Lady Camilla’s ear and made a beeline for Laslow.

Laslow felt himself relax. Oboro had already threaded her needle—one handed, he’d noted, very impressive—and Selena was getting closer by the minute. Odin wasn’t very far behind her, Laslow saw, though Odin was still sticking close to Lord Leo and Niles. Xander and Peri had never strayed far to begin with.

They were all standing at the edges of the crowd, but even the edges were overflowing with people who had ignored the food or were waiting for the line to die down and hoping to get a glimpse of their respective kings in the meantime. Even though he felt vulnerable with Oboro tugging at his sleeve, Laslow was not left wanting for company. Somehow that made him feel better. Less vulnerable.

Oboro hadn’t come close to pricking him, not even once. Not even in her studio full to the brim with pin cushions and other assorted threads. This was no different. Laslow forced himself to relax as Oboro got to work on sewing up his hole.

That was about the same moment Selena finally reached his side. She eyed Oboro’s careful stitches but said nothing to her, probably not wanting to distract Oboro from her work. Instead Selena looked to Laslow and said, “You okay?”

“Yes,” Laslow said carefully. He didn’t want to nod. He didn’t want to move at all.

Oboro, who it turned out was distantly paying attention, hummed. “Don’t worry, pretty boy, I’m almost finished.”

“Pretty boy?” Laslow squawked. Selena chuckled, leaning back on her heels. Even Oboro laughed lowly.

Looking closely, he could see Oboro was true to her word; she was nearly finished already. Laslow breathed in evenly.

It was in that moment several things happened at once.

Selena, scanning the crowd, turned away from Laslow for a moment. Somebody—an older man with a mug of something in hand, not paying attention to his surroundings—bumped into Oboro from behind.

Oboro jolted. Laslow’s arm, which was still in her grip by virtue of Oboro working on his sleeve, jerked. The tiny needle held between Oboro’s deft fingers pricked the base of Laslow’s palm.

Laslow _gasped_ , and despite the heavy summer heat, the breath he drew in felt cold. In his periphery he saw Selena swing around, but Laslow was too busy staring at his hand, hidden by his sleeve, to pay her much mind.

“Oops, sorry about that,” Oboro muttered. She hadn’t noticed anything was off.

Selena had frozen in place, her eyes flickering from Laslow’s face to Oboro’s hands, which were now tying off the quick-fix knot. Oboro looked satisfied.

Slowly, Laslow flexed his fingers from inside his sleeve.

It barely even hurt.

“Laslow?” Selena said cautiously, as unsure as Laslow had ever heard her. Her hands were outstretched like she was afraid to touch him.

For a moment he was foolish enough to think nothing would happen. That he was too far from home for it to matter after all this time.

Then Laslow’s vision flickered _white_ , and if he thought his first intake of breath had been a little chilly, his pure _ice_ he felt in his chest from his next breath couldn’t even compare. Laslow cried out in pain, barely aware that he’d made a sound. He felt as though he should have been stumbling, hunched over, but his feet were frozen in place.

There were distant voices. Oboro, confused, asking what was wrong. Selena’s hands scrambling at his arms, his chest, trying to pull him somewhere, away from something, saying, “No, no, no, Laslow, you have to _move_.” There was Odin suddenly, distressed, pulling at _her_ , saying, “Selena, stop, _stop_ , you’re going to get both of you hurt, _Selena_ _—_ ”

Xander in there too, probably, and other voices, confused members of the crowd, but it all turned into fuzz and snowfall in Laslow’s ears. His hands were shaking and there was lead in his legs and Laslow tore his eyes away from that damned closed hole in his sleeve to look up at Oboro’s wide eyes and then—

White.

 ~

 

Getting ready for any ceremony went like this: wake up early, get ready early, and then wait around.

Xander patiently let Oboro straighten the last part of his outfit: a pin with both the Nohrian emblem and the Hoshido emblem artistically blended together. The entire outfit was a mix of Nohr and Hoshido, and seeing himself in the mirror wearing it lit a spark of hope inside of Xander.

The transgressions of Garon still stained the minds of not just the Nohrian people but also the people of Hoshido. Years upon years of memories had built up and now they lay tumbled at Xander’s feet, demanding he clean and pick up the pieces. A daunting task for any new ruler stumbling into their position of power, but seeing the outfit helped ground Xander.

He wasn’t alone. He had his siblings, his family. Glancing to the side, he watched as Leo was swarmed by Odin and Niles, Odin loudly proclaiming how Leo’s “aura” had “expanded beyond the first plane of existence.” Leo looked flushed, probably from the consistent prodding and poking he had just undergone with Oboro completing last minute touch ups for him.

Camilla and Elise were talking to each other at the other side, Elise twirling with glee as the pale blossoms in her hair helped her outfit stand out more. Camilla gave a warm chuckle and gently patted their youngest sibling, giving her a side armed hug.

It wasn’t just his family either, Xander firmly reminded himself. He had Hoshido and their alliance. This signing was more than just fanfare or pomp and circumstance. The peace treaty was going to open up new opportunities for both countries to grow and to heal the wounds of the past.

“There,” Oboro announced. “It’s finished.” She stepped back. “How does it feel, King Xander?”

Xander moved a little bit. The fabric was smooth, well fitted, but not restricting. It truly was a work of art. “It feels comfortable. You have my utmost thanks, Oboro.”

“It was a pleasure.” Oboro carefully put her tools away, “If any troubles arise, do not hesitate to summon me.” She bowed. “If I may take my leave?”

“Of course.” Xander gave a smile. “Please enjoy today’s festivities.”

Oboro gave one final bow before she walked off and out of the room. As soon as she left, Peri and Laslow carefully walked up to him. Both of them were already fitted, wearing dark colours that complimented his own, but not so much that they looked like a direct copy. Peri was fiddling with her sleeves, but Laslow had his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

“There is time to grab a quick bite to eat,” Laslow told him. “Shall I go grab something light for you?”

Xander’s stomach flopped at the idea of eating. “No, thank you.”

Peri stopped fiddling with her sleeves, eyes wide. “Are you sure Lord Xander? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“Peri is correct.” Laslow nodded. “It really isn’t any trouble. Just some fruit? Or a muffin?”

His stomach twisted violently at Laslow’s suggestions. “I’m fine. Thank you for the concern Peri, Laslow. However, there will be plenty of food after the ceremony. I will wait until then.”

His retainers looked like they had more to say, but they both nodded, not pressing any further. Xander let out a small sigh and focused on the program of the late morning early afternoon. There was an introduction about the history between the two countries, followed by the promise of change. Then the reveal of the statue to symbolically represent the change. There would be speeches after, mainly from himself and King Ryoma. After their individual speeches they would sign the treaty. It was short, quick, and easy.

It was the after part that was a challenge. The staff of both Nohr and Hoshido had worked tirelessly to create an outstanding buffet and selection, highlighting the traditional foods from the respective countries. The evening was a formal ball, complete with not just dancers and singers from Nohr and Hoshido, but also Azura performing.

There was also the issue of security. It pained Xander’s heart to have guards at the doors and ninja in the shadows, but it was a reality he and King Ryoma couldn’t ignore. Still, with their best soldiers on the lookout, Xander hoped for a smooth celebration.

Hindsight was the worst.

Everything Xander had anticipated going wrong hadn't gone wrong. The ceremony started on time, his speech went over well (though he did spot Peri and Laslow poorly concealing their whispers. Their lack of formality sent a chuckle through him rather than disappointment. It was so… them that the familiarity grounded the day). King Ryoma also delivered a powerful speech and with the treaty signed by both parties, the ceremony was complete.

As they exited the stage, Xander noted Oboro immediately bolting over to Laslow, grabbing his arm and pointing to the cuff of his sleeve. She then dug around in an emergency bag at her hip. Xander lost sight of it, as King Ryoma came up to his side, though he did note Selena weaving her way over to Laslow and Oboro.

King Ryoma then spoke, drawing Xander’s attention away. One moment Xander had been chatting with King Ryoma, learning the subtleties of sake and the different kinds that could be made, and in return exchanging the differences between different wines, when a strangled gasp hit the air, like a rock being thrown against a glass pane. It pierced the surroundings and sent a chill down Xander’s spine despite the weather being warm and sunny.

Then voices, fast, rapid tones, scrambling to find purchase in the air, sliding and slipping into the syllables. Xander felt another shiver run down his spine. He turned his head in the direction of the voices, to where Selena and Laslow were. Odin was also approaching them, his movements jagged and brutal, like the air was trying to force him to stay away. Laslow’s gaze was on his hand, his posture rigid and stiff.

A beat passed.

And then everything exploded.

Laslow let out a whimper, a pained filled whimper. Xander saw his breath escape his lips, curling around him, as though the air around Laslow was cold. Selena’s voice grew more panicked, coming out in fast words that dripped with pleading, with begging, before she lunged at Laslow, her arms wrapping around his waist. She pulled Laslow up, like she was trying to carry him away, sever his connection to the ground.

Odin immediately tugged on Selena, his eyes wide and his face pale, “Selena, stop, _stop_ , you’re going to get both of you hurt, _Selena_ _—_ ” His voice carried through the air, loud and leaking desperation.

“What are you doing!” Selena’s voice was now loud. “If I can just…”

“That won’t stop it.” Odin’s voice carried. “From the ground in which it began…”

Odin gave one final tug, and Selena’s grip fell. Laslow was back on the ground, his posture barely wobbling, but he was facing Xander. Xander felt his blood drain, his heart slowly stopping.

Laslow’s eyes were pale, no trace of life in them, no pupil. They were glazed over, like the first sheet of ice on a lake. His arm suddenly snapped to his side before ice started to climb up his body.

It started at his feet, webbing up, like water running uphill. The grass below him frosted over in a neat circle, as though it was keeping all the heat out. The ice rapidly spread up Laslow’s legs, in large, jagged chunks, like icicles frosting over and over. Light fractured off the ice, spreading violets, aquamarines, turquoises, and indigos in the air. It continued to curl up Laslow’s body, engulfing Laslow, not stopping until it formed a peak, resembling a crystal. A crystal so translucent Xander could see Laslow trapped inside. Laslow’s pale eyes were now shut, as though asleep.

“Laslow!” Selena didn’t have a weapon, like most of them, but she was already at Laslow’s side, her bare hands clawing at the ice. “Laslow!”

“Selena, Selena, please stop!” Odin boldly grabbed Selena’s arm and pulled her away, “I said you’re going to get hurt too…”

“But we can’t just stand around and…” Selena choked out, “… I turned away for a moment and…”

“It’s not your fault,” Odin firmly told her, but his voice was wavering.

Xander’s mind was flying in every direction. This was an attack, a magical attack. How had they not seen it? Where had it come from? Was Laslow the target? Or was someone else and Laslow just an unfortunate casualty? The thought made Xander’s blood boil. No one was supposed to get hurt at this ceremony, but especially not his retainers. He couldn’t lose one again. Turning to one of the many guards that had rushed into the gardens, Xander forced himself to shove Laslow away for a moment.

“Go, secure the guests, make sure no one else is hurt,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir!”

“Have the rest of the guards do a sweep of the perimeter.” Xander quickly spoke to another guard. “If they discover anyone suspicious, arrest them.”

“Sir!”

As he spoke, Xander saw Camilla give a slight nod to Beruka, who then slipped into the shadows so quickly, it resembled a Hoshido ninja. King Ryoma hadn’t stood idle either. One of his retainers, Saizo, was already gone, Kagero still at Ryoma’s side, her eyes carefully darting around. The rest of the royal retainers were with their respectful lord or lady, except for Odin and Selena, who were at Laslow’s side, staring in horror at Laslow.

“It had to be an attack.” Leo was suddenly beside Xander, his voice low. “But I’ve never seen or read of magic like this…”

Magic Leo hadn’t seen… that wasn’t rare, but one he hadn’t read about… Xander wished he didn’t have to suspect anyone, but he had to ask King Ryoma for his insight…

“No, please wait.”

Xander turned around. Odin and Selena were facing everyone, his voice loud enough that royalty scattered in the courtyard would be able to hear him. Both Odin and Selena’s gazes were clouded, as though speaking was difficult and only determination was helping them continue on, forcing the words out.

“This wasn’t the work of some twisted or wicked sorcerer that lurks in the shadows even when the sun is high in the sky,” Odin slowly said. “Nor was it some sort of spell cast with a tome or wave of a hand. This…” He paused, looking at Laslow, as though he was seeking forgiveness for his next words. “This is a curse. Laslow… since the moment he was born has been cursed.”

Cursed. Xander felt the words hit his brain, but not fully absorb in neat chunks. Laslow was cursed… and this was the curse? Why did he not know about this? Why didn’t Laslow tell him? Curses needed something to activate it and if Laslow had told him maybe he could have helped. Maybe he could have prevented this…

“A curse, you say?” Leo stepped closer. “I’ve never heard of a curse like this.”

“It’s…” Selena took over. “It’s from our homeland.”

Their homeland. It wasn’t a secret that the trio were not from Nohr, or Hoshido, but it was rare for the three to ever mention where they came from. Xander never wanted to pry too hard, less it be painful for Laslow. Leo and Camilla probably knew about as much as he did.

But maybe, this was a sort of explanation to why they never spoke of their homeland.

“Your homeland cursed you?” Xander asked, his heart sinking. How horrible, to carry a curse from a place of belonging.

“Not… exactly.” Selena carefully spoke. “I’m not cursed. It’s more…”

“It’s region specific,” Odin clarified, “It’s the snow and ice spirits. The spirits of the cold and frost. A person may leave Regna Ferox, but Regna Ferox never leaves a person.” Odin’s voice was soft, as though he were quoting something long written down.

Regna Ferox… Xander made a small note of the name before he focused. Now was not the time for specifics on how the curse worked.

“How do we save him?” Xander asked. “Will he…” Was he… dead?

“He’s in an eternal sleep, a sleep of ice and cold.” Odin again sounded like he was quoting from something written, “Legend says when a heart of warmth, love, and determination accepts the cold, the curse is lifted.”

“So, wait,” Niles cut in. “You’ve never seen the curse lifted?”

Odin and Selena’s silence spoke volumes, more so than any answer they could have given.

 ~

 

_“Oh, sweetie,” his mother’s voice rang out. “Don’t be afraid.”_

_Inigo couldn’t help it. He felt fat, hot tears run down his face as the story circulated in his head. Needles and ice, a death like sleep should he ever be pricked. His heart seized at the idea of being forever alone, separated from his family and friends._

_Warm arms suddenly curled around him. Inigo collapsed into the familiar chest of his mother and wept into her. The smell of vanilla and peach did little to calm him down, but with the warm hug he was receiving, Inigo felt a bit of the hiccups subside._

_“Not all is gloomy," Olivia told him, rocking gently in the chair, “for the goddess of warmth and sun saw this and was saddened for humanity. However, gods and goddesses cannot undo magic from other spirits, but what they can do is try to counter it.”_

_“Counter it?” Inigo lifted his head._

_“If a heart of warmth, love, and determination accepts the cold, the spell will be lifted.”_

_Warmth… love… determination… “Like you mom?” Inigo asked._

_“Yes, like me,” she agreed. “Or your father. Or perhaps when you’re older, a special someone.”_

_A special someone… “Like dad is to you?”_

_Olivia smiled. “Yes, sweetie, exactly how dad is to me.”_

~

 

“It’s not as though we saw it particularly often,” Odin said after a moment of silence that stretched out between them all. The crowd was being corralled by the guards to the other side of the field, closer to the food and farther from the spectacle, but even their protests seemed quieter than they should have been to Xander’s ears. “There were certain… _precautions_ taken to ensure Regna Ferox’s inhabitants would never fall victim to the curse again.”

Xander watched his eyes flicker from the crystalline ice encasing Laslow to the soft summer grass. The ice showed no signs of being bothered by the oppressive heat that weighed down on Xander like a living creature.

“I’ve never seen it myself,” Odin admitted.

Leo nodded, considering. “If you’ve never seen it personally, then how can you be sure—”

“It’s the curse,” Selena insisted, looking miserable, her lips twisting unhappily as she stared at the palms of her hands. Her skin was red, Xander noticed. Likely from trying to pull Laslow from the ice before he was overtaken.

“I didn’t even grow up in Regna Ferox,” she continued, looking not to Leo but to Xander, face solemn, “but everyone knows.”

Odin dipped his head down and whispered something in her ear. A comfort or a reminder of some kind, Xander didn’t know. Another silence threatened to stretch out among them as those who had not sent themselves off to perform crowd control—Xander and his siblings as well as King Ryoma and his remaining retainer among the few left behind—took turns looking at Laslow’s trapped form and contemplating the new information they had just been given.

The only person who was not quiet was Peri, who stamped her foot and balled her fists in frustration. Her mascara had already smudged from the fat tears rolling down her face.

“I don’t get it!” Peri complained. “Didn’t Laslow come from far away? How come this dumb curse thingy is even here?”

She looked bothered by the fact there was no person to kill, no one mage they could punish for casting this curse. Xander knew the feeling.

“Peri,” Selena said quietly, looking as though she wanted to say something more.

Peri wasn’t finished. “Can’t we just go _thwak_ on the ice?” She made a cutting motion with her arm, her sword thankfully still strapped to her hip and her lance nowhere to be found. “Why can’t we just break it, huh? I bet a really big hammer would break Laslow out of there. Can’t we do it, Lord Xander?”

She looked to Xander, eager for his permission. He shook his head, looking to Odin and Selena for confirmation.

“I don’t believe that would be advisable,” he said slowly. They shook their heads in return.

“You’d have a better chance of breaking your weapon,” Odin said. “No simple tool would be able to break that kind of ice. Men have tried before.”

Peri’s face scrunched up even more, additional tears threatening to spill. Xander placed his hand on her shoulder comfortingly and squeezed. Her bottom lip wobbled, misery and vexation written all over her features. She didn’t stomp her foot again or reach for her sword, however, so Xander considered it a win.

“Do not despair yet,” Xander told her. “Think of what Laslow would say. We have not yet begun to solve this problem, and so we cannot consider it a lost cause as of yet. Laslow would not wish for you to shed tears over him as though he were already gone when he is still right in front of us.”

Peri blinked rapidly, what seemed to be the last of her tears rolling down her cheeks. She swiped them away and looked up at Xander, determined. However easily Peri happened to cry, she always seemed to pull herself together again just as easily. Xander admired her for it. He released her shoulder and drew back into himself.

With Peri somewhat calmed, Xander stole a quick moment to think.

 _A heart of warmth, love, and determination_. Those words rang in Xander’s mind, and his own heart felt pitifully heavy as he gazed at Laslow behind the ice. The words were vague, as far as curses went. Xander hoped Leo or someone else more versed with magic could make sense of them, because all his own mind could come up with at the moment were swirling questions about Laslow’s well-being.

Was he in pain? Xander wondered. The palms of Selena’s hands appeared raw from the cold, and Xander hadn’t even seen her touch the ice directly. Laslow was encased in it by at least a foot of it on every side. His eyes were closed. Did he dream? Could he hear them?

Xander forcefully reminded himself that such pondering did nothing to help the here and now. His top priority was helping free Laslow from his prison, first and foremost.

Ryoma, who had been softly going back and forth with Kagero while the rest of this unfolded, now appeared at Xander’s side again, carefully composed. Xander could only hope he appeared as much of the embodiment of a leader as Ryoma did at the moment.

“Lord Xander,” Ryoma said. “As happy as I am to hear this is not the work of sabotage by any particular group, I am very sorry to see your retainer has fallen victim to such an awful curse.”

Ryoma’s voice was suitably sympathetic, and at the mention of Laslow, he looked over at Kagero and then into the distance somewhere, presumably wherever Saizo had run off to. It was comforting to know Ryoma seemed to understand his predicament.

He continued, “If there is anything I or Hoshido can do on behalf of yourself or Nohr in this time, please do not hesitate to ask. Any one of us would be happy to help. I’ve sent my own guards to assist in controlling the crowd and dispersing everyone peacefully so that assisting your retainer may be your priority, if that’s alright.”

Xander nodded. “Thank you. I’ve already ordered the same, but I appreciate your consideration and forethought.”

“Of course,” Ryoma said. “Likewise, I know your brother is a very skilled mage, but Hoshido’s own resources are open to your disposal at any time.”

“Hoshido’s consideration knows no bounds,” Xander said, and at one time that might have been a thinly veiled insult. He meant it honestly, however, and Ryoma sent him a friendly smile in return. They shook hands and turned away, Xander's heart heavy.

There was much to be done, after all. With Ryoma taking care of the people, Xander could focus on what was important: Laslow.

 ~

 

_Regna Ferox’s summer heat pulsed down on Inigo as he practiced and trained. His sword felt heavy in his sweaty palms, but the burn in his muscles felt good. Steadying his stance, Inigo took a deep breath, exhaled, before he went at it again, charging at the dummy. The straw stuffing was already falling out and there was a large tear in the side. Soon he’d have to ask someone to fix it for him. It was a pain to put training on hold and ask someone to help when most people would just fix it themselves, but needles and pins had been long banned from access to most people in Regna Ferox._

_The only people who could handle needles and pins were the outsiders, the people who were not from Regna Ferox, but came to either live on the land for one reason or another. The other people who could handle needles and pins were the Khans._

_It was an ancient right of passage, and also a matter of security. Sure, the people in Regna Ferox were ferocious warriors and the curse randomized, but that didn’t mean the normal masses in Regna Ferox were poking themselves at random. No one from Regna Ferox was foolish enough to test their luck on a whim._

_But they also couldn’t just have leaders who would fall at an enemy attack so easily. Hence the need to make sure the Khans weren’t cursed. It was the final test, the ultimate test for anyone from Regna Ferox. Many people had challenged their right to become Khan, but few had passed the final test._

_Some talk had also spread for high ranking warriors to also undergo the test, to see if they were cursed. The debate had raged for a while, but in the end it had boiled down to “if the Khan gives permission and the soldier is willing to take the risk, then it’s fine”._

_Inigo shuddered and returned to training. There was no way he’d ever test his luck. If he could avoid it, he’d stay away from needles and pins for the rest of his life. Knowing his luck, he’d be cursed and frozen the moment a pin pricked him._

~

 

Xander’s hand drifted to his side and brushed the hilt of his sword, Siegfried. A thought struck him.

He stepped forward, Peri’s curious eyes trailing his every move. She followed a few steps behind, not saying anything.

Elise and Sakura had gathered around one side of the ice encasing Laslow, a little closer to the cursed ice than Xander would have liked. They both looked determined, though Sakura shivered and folded her arms over herself like she was cold. As Xander approached, he could feel why; the closer he got to the unnatural ice, the cooler the air grew. By the time he neared Sakura and Elise, it felt as though it were the dead of Nohrian winter and not close to midsummer. As fine as Oboro’s clothes were, they had not been made with the cold in mind, and Xander felt the chill in the air so acutely it were as though he were the one trapped in the ice instead.

To their credit, neither of the girls made moves to retreat, despite the cold. Elise, brow furrowed, clutching her staff with her free hand, threw one arm around Sakura to help her shivering and continued to discuss different healing and relocation spells that might help Laslow’s current predicament. Sakura stuttered out a thanks. They both flashed Xander a reassuring smile as he passed.

Leo had joined Odin and Niles on the other side of the ice, trading remarks and listening to Odin’s quiet explanations at length. Xander had been a bit too far away to hear their exact conversation, but judging by the periodic shaking of their heads, none of them were very happy about their options. Selena stood just behind Odin, her arms crossed. When Xander grew close, they all paused and looked his way. He felt the weight of their eyes and the chill of ice on his skin in equal measure.

“Odin,” he said without preamble. “You said that no ordinary tool would affect the ice, correct?”

Odin blinked. “Yes, King Xander, I’m afraid ‘tis so. No matter how hard the strongest man may strike the ice, if it were an ordinary tool, there would not be even a crack left in the wake of the blows.”

He did not sound happy about it.

Leo, clearly intrigued, looked at Xander. “Do you have something in mind?”

“Perhaps,” Xander said, looking past Leo to Laslow, who did not look back. His eyes were still closed. The last time Xander had seen them, his eyes had appeared sightless. Before that, they’d been vibrant and light as Xander shared a small smile with him on stage.

In that moment, Xander would have done anything to see those eyes open again.

Leo must have sensed a shift in the air, because he took a step back. After a beat, they all did. Somewhere over his shoulder, Peri still looked on.

She might have been right from the start, he thought. If this worked, he would be sure to thank her.

Perhaps what he was about to try was a bit mad. He would have never had admitted it then, but back when Laslow was still Xander’s new retainer and Xander knew nothing of the strange man who flirted too much and spoke too presumptuously and never failed to deliver, Xander had grown a bit mad trying to wrap his mind around the enigma that was Laslow. Dealing with him had left Xander dizzy most days.

Now he’d accepted Laslow for who he’d become, for all he’d done for Nohr. For Xander.

Perhaps Laslow’s unorthodox methods had rubbed off on him as well.

There was only one way to find out.

Xander unsheathed his sword, raised Siegfried above his head, and struck.

 ~

 

_“Tea, milord?”_

_Xander looked up from the mountain of books and maps on his desk. The light from the afternoon was attempting to shine through a cloud and wasn’t quite reaching the corners of his room. To fix that, Xander had already lit a couple of unscented candles. Their orange light bounced off the walls, mixing with the white natural light of the sun’s rays whenever they managed to shine into his room._

_Laslow was standing at the doorway, holding a tray. A small teapot sat on the tray ,as well as teacups. The set was a recent gift from a shop keep who was thankful that the guards had helped solve his thief problem (it was one of his workers and Xander could remember the sinking feeling in his heart when he saw that. Broken loyalty was one of the saddest things to witness). There were also some sweets on the tray, perhaps a gift from Peri._

_“Milord?” Laslow gingerly stepped inside._

_Xander set his quill down and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Laslow, please knock next time before entering.”_

_Laslow in turn pouted. “I did, milord. Three times. I didn’t get a response, so I sort of figured…”_

_Ah. Xander spared a glance at the materials on his desk. He supposed he had been very engrossed in the files. “My apologies then, for reprimanding you.”_

_“It’s not a problem.” Laslow gave a wide smile, any trace of his pout disappearing. “Your tea?”_

_Right. Xander carefully picked up some of the scrolls and books, setting them on top of one another, shoving them to a corner on his desk. “You can set the tray here.”_

_Laslow nodded and did as Xander had asked. The tea was a black tea, Xander could smell the bergamot waffling off into the air.  The sweets on the tray were indeed something Peri had created, cookies complete with a thin layer of icing._

_“It’s called Royal Icing,” Peri had informed him once. “It hardens quickly when left out to dry.”_

_“Thank you Laslow,” Xander gently said. “Please, also thank Peri for the cookies.”_

_“I will,” Laslow promised before he reached for the teapot._

_With dexterity, Laslow poured Xander a cup of tea, not spilling a single drop. The tea was black, no sugar or cream or milk added. Just the way Xander liked it. Smoothly Laslow set the teapot back down and backed away._

_“Enjoy the tea and sweets, milord. I’ll return for the dishes later.”_

_Xander opened his mouth to once again thank Laslow, but he ended up pausing. There was an extra teacup on the tray. “Laslow, why is there an extra teacup?” Xander asked._

_At this Laslow flushed and wrung his hands a little bit, “Ah… well, you see… when I asked the maids for the tea they, um…” His cheeks turned pink, “I suppose they assumed I was joining you. I didn’t have the heart to correct them.”_

_Joining him… Xander watched as Laslow’s cheeks turned red a moment later. His hands immediately flew in the air._

_“Not that I’m implying or trying to force myself onto…” Laslow immediately cut himself off, “Never mind. I’ll take my leave…”_

_“Wait,” Xander suddenly called out. “Laslow…” He watched as Laslow stilled. “I… could use the company.”_

_Laslow’s eyes widened. “Really?” he blurted out before he bit his lip. “I mean, I don’t wish to impose…”_

_“It’s fine,” Xander assured, grabbing the teapot. "Please, sit and enjoy some tea and sweets with me.”_

_Laslow slowly walked over and sat down on the edge of Xander’s bed carefully and smoothly. As he accepted the tea, with slightly shaky hands, the sun broke through the clouds and streamed into the room. The sun hit Laslow’s face, gently showing the highlights and lowlights of Laslow’s silvery grey hair. His eyes closed briefly, inhaling the scent of the tea, before he opened them, his smile bright._

_“Smells delicious. Thank you, milord.” Laslow’s nerves had all but disappeared._

_And were transferred to Xander. Suddenly Xander felt his cheeks brighten and warm at the sight of Laslow. In that moment, Xander suddenly understood why, despite how sometimes Laslow’s flirting went nowhere, that there were people that fell for his retainer’s charms. Laslow really was a handsome man, looks and personality and all._

_Xander smiled and felt his heart flutter a little. “You’re welcome, Laslow.”_

~

 

The first thing Xander felt after striking the ice was the burning cold. Distantly, he heard Odin and Selena’s cries of surprise, followed by their voices speaking so quickly Xander couldn’t catch their words. Siegfried’s tip had pierced the ice, sinking in, causing hairline fractures to pierce the ice’s surface, like broken butterfly wings crinkled in a hand. Hope surged warm through Xander’s heart before the icy cold returned with a vengeance. Soon ice spread from the crack, frosting over Siegfried’s blade, trailing in beautiful crystal structures, like smashed snowflakes. It quickly spread to the hilt of his sword before biting at Xander’s finger tips.

His hand immediately frosted over as well. The icy burn felt like a thousand needles and pins jabbing into his skin, piercing through to the muscle and bones. Xander felt his vision temporarily go white and when he coughed, his breath was also frosted over, twirling in the air like smoke from a blown-out candle.

“Xander!” Leo’s voice was at his ear.

“Lord Xander!” Peri was at his side, her hands hovering in the air, as though she was unsure of whether or not to grab him or grab her sword.

“It’s all right,” Xander spoke. As he spoke he felt like ice crystals were jabbing into his throat and filling his lungs. “I’m all right.”

“Your eyes are pale,” Leo retorted.

They were? Xander wished he could check his reflection to confirm, but it wasn’t the time. He steadied his stance and gripped his sword with both hands. At once he felt the frost spread further up, and the feeling of needles and pins rushed at him. Xander breathed out, feeling the frostiness of his breath ghost his lips, icing them over. His hands were beginning to numb. Xander could feel the blood draining from his fingers, the cold biting and tearing large chunks out of his skin. His brain screamed for heat, for warmth, but Xander couldn’t stop, not when Laslow’s well being was on the line.

He forced his grip to tighten and ignored the screams from his fingers as the frost began to turn into ice, slowly edging at the tips of his fingernails. With a crack in his arms, as though ice was breaking under the force of his attempt, Xander tried to move Siegfried, cutting downwards, where the ice was thinner than the top. All Xander had to do was be careful, not accidentally push too deep. He didn’t want to hurt Laslow in the process.

The ice began to crack some more, slowly breaking into distinct chunks, the lines becoming more defined. Xander’s arms, however, were slowly frosting up; even the clothes Oboro had made for him were glazed over in an icy sparkly sheen. The ice at his fingertips was spreading, to his knuckles, pointed and jagged. His hands were numb and his arms freezing. Xander shivered and desperately fought the urge to just let go, stop. He couldn’t. If he did, he’d never be able to save Laslow. He had to endure. Xander pushed his blade down, with one massive surge of energy and felt the ice crack more. The fractured ice rippled through the crystal and with a beat of silence, the ice around Laslow’s torso and face broke off.

It wasn’t all off. The entirety of Laslow’s bottom half was still encased, and his right shoulder and arm. A bit of his face was also still shrouded in ice, but it graced his ears and jaw line.

“Laslow!” Odin was rushing up. “Hurry!” he urged.

Selena was beside Odin too, her fingers crawling at some of loose ice shards around Laslow’s hair. “We need to do something, while the ice is cracked.”

Cracked? Sure enough Xander saw the ice starting to form again. He gasped out, the icicles in his lungs still poking and threatening to burst the tender organ to shreds. His fingers were still frosted to the iced over hilt, unable to move from the spot. Even in the sweltering heat of summer, the warmth wasn’t returning as fast as it should.

It didn’t matter. Xander refocused on Laslow. His skin was almost translucent and his lips slightly blue. His eyes remained closed, but for the better. Xander didn’t want to see that pale frosted over gaze. He wanted life back into Laslow. Xander wanted to see Laslow smile, laugh, blush, and stammer. Xander wanted Laslow to attempt to weasel out of his mistakes and cheekily push his limits with him. Xander wanted Laslow to be by his side.

Warmth. Love. Determination. That’s what Odin had said, right? Xander knew he had shown determination, the numbness of his hands proved it. Now all he had to do was show the other two, right?

Without pause, without considering who was watching, or who could be watching, Xander brushed past Odin and Selena. The ice was forming rapidly, already covering Laslow’s shoulder. Odin and Selena hadn’t moved a bit, their fingers slowly turning red from touching Laslow’s frozen form. Leaning in, Xander could feel the cold radiate off Laslow.

It felt wrong. It was wrong to see Laslow like this, still, cold, unmoving.

“Please,” Xander whispered against Laslow’s still and frozen lips. “Wake up.”

A long time ago, back when Xander’s life was uncomplicated by words like “ruler” “king” and “throne” Xander’s mother had told him a tale, about love conquering all forms of evil. At the time the tale felt magical. Over the years however, the tale began to sour and feel unrealistic, before it slowly was feeling magical again. Love never lost its magic. It was just human perceptive that affected the strength of it.

Closing his eyes, Xander kissed Laslow, prying his lips open, breathing his life into Laslow. His lungs protested, the iciness inside threatening to snuff him out, but Xander didn’t care. He’d give everything inside of him as he slowly felt realization smack him upside the head. Love had always been in his heart, budding and growing for Laslow. It just took almost losing him to realize it.

The sharpness of the cold burned Xander’s lips, but he continued, kissing Laslow, breathing into him, before suddenly he felt a twitch. Pulling away for air, Xander kissed Laslow again, feeling warmth slowly seep into him. Under him, Xander could hear the ice cracking and collapsing to the already frosted over ground. Soon Xander could feel Laslow’s cold form pressed against his cold body. Close. He was close…

Suddenly Laslow coughed from under him. Xander immediately pulled away, his heart spluttering as he watched Laslow’s eyes flutter open. For one horrifying moment, he saw the paleness of Laslow’s eyes, before colour returned, pupils and iris returning to normal. Laslow coughed harder and wiggled, the ice around him firmly smashing to pieces, until he was free.

At once Odin and Selena descended upon him, crying and holding him tightly. Words came out, of relief, of fear, of happiness, of joy. It all swarmed around Laslow until Selena and Odin couldn’t speak anymore.

Laslow slowly shifted, his arms moving slowly, and gently curled them around their forms, “I’m… alive?”

Selena pulled away and Xander heard Laslow cry out as she pinched him, “Don’t ever do that to us again!” She demanded.

Laslow whined and rubbed his side, “I… won’t?” He blinked, “Wait, the curse was broken? How?” He paused. “No… wait… who?”

Silently, Odin and Selena pulled away from Laslow and parted, allowing Xander to catch Laslow’s gaze. Laslow blinked, his eyes scanning up and down Xander’s form, taking in the frosted arms, the frosted blade, the ice.

His face attempted to blush, but it was hard to tell with how red Laslow’s cheeks were becoming because of the blood rushing back to warm him up.

“Oh… uh…” Laslow’s words clumsily fell from his lips.

Xander didn’t care. Now wasn’t the time to play it coy and cool. Taking two large strides to Laslow, he pulled him into a hug, resting his chin on the top of Laslow’s head. Laslow squeaked from under him, but slowly his arms wrapped around Xander’s torso lightly.

“You’re all right,” Xander quietly breathed out.

“You saved me,” Laslow retorted.

“I did,” Xander agreed.

Laslow paused before he shivered violently and pulled away, sneezing. “I think…” Laslow muttered, “I need something warm.”

Now that he mentioned it… Xander suddenly shivered too. “I think I do too. Let’s… warm up. We have much to discuss.”

Laslow visibly swallowed before he boldly looked Xander in the eyes. “Please tell me we still have ingredients to make hot chocolate.”

 ~

 

Felicia assured Xander that there were ingredients for hot chocolate somewhere, probably, if she remembered correctly, maybe not, it is summer, milord, I’m very sorry, but it was Flora who rushed ahead to get everything ready in an unspoken understanding that nobody needed Felicia destroying any more tea cups or sorely needed hot drinks today. Unsurprisingly, once Laslow remembered Felicia and Flora both hailed from the Ice Tribe, it turned out Felicia was actually very skilled in treating hypothermia as well.

This was a very lucky break indeed because Xander and Laslow were both mildly to dangerously hypothermic—Xander being worse off than Laslow, as it turned out.

Apparently Laslow had been slightly more protected from the ice by whatever accursed magic had worked its evil ways on him than Xander had been using his sword to chisel Laslow out of the ice with pure strength and determination. Who would have guessed?

And _that_ was something Laslow was still reeling from for sure, even as he watched Elise and Sakura wave their healing rods over Xander at Felicia’s direction and saw the blue tips of Xander’s fingers and lips recede at the touch of their magic. The glistening layer of frost that had staked its claim on Xander’s arms and hair began to melt as well, leaving only condensation in its wake. By the end of it, Xander looked more like he’d had a tiring workout under the warm sun than like he’d nearly frozen to death saving his hopeless retainer from his own curse. Siegfried still looked shinier than normal, still unnaturally chilled, but the tiny droplets of water running down the hilt said the hot air was working its own delayed magic on the sword now that the curse was lifted.

Laslow had failed to notice any of that at first. Xander hadn’t looked shaky or strangely stiff or suffering from frostbite when Laslow had first opened his eyes. Laslow hadn’t looked to Siegfried at all. When he’d seen Xander, it had been just as lovely a sight as the first time Laslow had laid eyes on him; even more so now because he hadn’t thought he’d ever see Xander again when he’d first fallen asleep.

Of course, when he’d absently mentioned this to Felicia while Xander was being seen to, careful to leave out words like “magnificent” or “incredibly handsome” that were bouncing around Laslow’s sluggish mind, her eyes grew wide in a way Laslow did not like at all, and he was then forced to spend an extra ten minutes being checked over for brain injuries.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Laslow protested for what felt like the tenth time. He wasn’t even slurring his words anymore. He couldn’t help but glance over to where Xander was being seen to by his sister and Sakura and found Xander looking right back at him.

Laslow felt his face heat up, and he quickly looked away. His lips still tingled, and it probably wasn’t a result of the cold anymore.

Felicia ignored his protests. “Follow my finger with your eyes.”

Her voice was as close to commanding as Laslow had ever heard her, so he did. She did some other things too, checking his pupils and his pulse and pressing her fingers against his skin, buzzing with magic, until finally she was satisfied.

Laslow nearly cheered until he realized he had no idea where to go from here.

Peri had crowded him only moments after Xander reluctantly—had it been reluctant? It felt as though his hands had lingered, but Laslow wasn’t sure—released Laslow at Camilla’s behest that they both be seen to. Before Elise could do anything, however, Peri had swooped in, snuggling against Laslow’s numb side much the way Odin and Selena had. She’d told him never to make her worry that much again or she’d kill him.

Laslow was mostly sure it was a joke.

He was touched anyway, and eventually Xander had sent her back to the castle ahead of them with orders that had gone over Laslow’s head. He thought Xander had thanked Peri for something, but he couldn't be sure.

He may have been a bit out of it at the time. Felicia might have been right in her precautions. He made a mental note to thank her for it later.

“Laslow.” There was a tentative touch on his shoulder, and Laslow turned to find Xander standing behind him, looking weary and less put together than usual but no less kingly. There was still water that could be mistaken for sweat on his brow. “I believe it would be best if we retired back at the castle for now. I have been assured everything has been taken care of here.”

It was barely after midday. The sun still hung high in the sky. Somehow, with the chill and the excitement, Laslow had forgotten that. Now, as the sun spun gold in Xander’s hair, he was reminded in detail.

Forcing himself to focus on Xander’s words, Laslow realized the crowd he’d gazed upon earlier had significantly dwindled and he found more familiar faces surrounding him than unfamiliar. When he failed to find several people he thought should have been there—Lady Camilla, who had been lingering only moments ago, for instance—he realized they were likely the ones “taking care” of everything on Xander’s behalf.

So Xander could take care of Laslow, he realized.

And himself, he quickly mentally added. Xander had to take care of himself too.

But it was Xander’s broad hand that definitely lingered on his shoulder as he steered Laslow back to the castle, it was Xander’s gaze that followed Laslow’s every step when Laslow stumbled disembarking from his saddle, and it was Xander’s large but comforting presence that Laslow swore he could feel radiating heat as they made their way through the castle halls.

“Is there anything I can get for you, milord?” Laslow asked as they passed the turnoff for where Laslow would usually turn towards the kitchens. “A hot bath, perhaps—”

“I’m sure Flora has already taken care of everything,” Xander said, steering Laslow towards his own rooms. “Do not concern yourself with that. I believe we have some things to discuss.”

Xander’s voice was unreadable. They hadn’t spoken much beyond necessity on the ride back to the castle. Elise had followed them back, as had her retainers, and it hadn’t felt like the right time or place for a discussion. Even safety within the castle, Laslow still didn’t feel like it was the proper place to ask the questions that were swirling around his head, and every echoing footstep on the stone made his brief glimpse with ice and eternity feel more and more distant. Without the dull ache in his bones or the wet cough he occasionally heard Xander try to suppress, Laslow would have begun to think it all a dream.

Elise had parted with them at the front gate, but it wasn’t until the door to Xander’s quarters closed behind them that Laslow finally felt they were truly alone. It was equal parts relieving and stressful all at once.

“How do you feel?” Those were the first words out of Xander’s mouth when the door closed. There was steaming tea sitting on Xander’s desk—Flora’s handiwork, no doubt—but they both ignored it. Xander was frowning, concerned. “Would you prefer to lie down for a while? Elise assured me that we were both in a fine state to travel back home, but I should have asked your preference first. My apologies. I’m sure you must be exhausted—”

“Me?” Laslow cut in. His heart had lurched at the word “home,” and he couldn’t stop the words from escaping his lips. “Milord, I should be telling _you_ that!”

“Laslow—”

“You—You _kissed_ me.”

They looked at each other.

Ah. Now he had done it, Laslow thought, somewhat hysterically. He’d crossed a line this time somehow. Or Xander risking life and limb to pull him out of the ice had really been all in his imagination after all, and Laslow had just revealed a fantasy of his own accord. _Or_ he was still under the ice after all, and this was all a slow nightmare of eternal torment that he was subconsciously subjecting himself to because of course he could never catch a break—

Xander coughed into his fist.

“Yes,” he said. “I suppose I did.”

Laslow swallowed.

“Thank you,” he said. The first thing he thought he’d gotten right since waking up with Xander’s lips on his own. “Thank you, milord, for saving me.”

Xander was shaking his head, but now that Laslow started, he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“I really.” He swallowed again, blinking hard. “I really thought it would never come to this, you know? The curse.”

He only fumbled slightly on the word “curse.”

“After coming to Nohr, I almost thought… Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter what I thought. I kept it to myself for many reasons, the first and foremost being that I just didn’t want to share it, really. It… frightened me.”

Laslow may or may not have been shaking again, though this time not because of the cold.  Xander held up a hand in a request for him to stop, but Laslow _couldn’t_. “I’m sorry for not telling you before. Lord Xander, I…”

“Laslow,” Xander said. “I love you.”

Laslow stopped.

“I waited because I wanted to have this conversation in private,” Xander said, catching Laslow’s gaze and keeping it, his voice firm, “but I don’t think my feelings are any secret after the spectacle I made this afternoon. I am in love with you, Laslow, and I am sorry it took me this long to figure it out.”

Laslow stared, mouth agape. Xander patiently waited for him to collect himself.

“I—You—” Eventually Laslow settled on, “Really?”

Xander chuckled. There was a lasting bit of redness to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Laslow would have thought it to be sunburn if he had not known better.

“Yes,” Xander said. “Really. Do you not feel the same?”

“Of course I do!” Laslow’s voice was much too loud for Xander’s chambers and no doubt anyone passing outside would have heard him, but he couldn’t have cared less about eavesdroppers at the moment. His heart was beating a mile a minute. “I’ve been in love with you since—ah, well.” There were hands on his shoulders again, and Xander’s face was terribly close. “Let’s just say when those maids gave me an extra cup for your tea, they hadn’t been wrong about all of it.”

“No,” Xander murmured. “I don’t believe they had been wrong at all.”

And then Xander kissed him.

It was not at all the desperate, life-saving press of lips against lips that had awoken Laslow just in time to catch the tailends of it before it had ended, but it definitely was still a _kiss_. A kiss that might have knocked Laslow’s socks off if his legs hadn’t wobbled under his own weight first.

Xander pulled back, his hands cupping Laslow’s cheeks. His skin was very warm against Laslow’s own. Laslow felt alight with electricity.

“Are you alright?” Xander asked. “Should we sit down?”

He was leading Laslow over to his bed before Laslow could even answer. They sat on the edge of the mattress, bodies angled towards one another. Xander kept his hand placed atop of Laslow’s on the sheets. There was little room between them.

There was still steam curling above the tea cups on the desk. Laslow’s mouth felt suddenly dry, but he forced himself to look Xander in the eye rather than retreat. Ignoring the moment he’d discovered that this afternoon would not be his last, this was perhaps the happiest he’d felt in his entire life, despite his nerves.

“In the future,” Xander said, drawing Laslow attention back to him. “I would very much appreciate it if you told me about dormant curses _before_ we go about activating them. Especially if they are curses that can be activated at the drop of a hat with—" Xander paused, frowning. "What did you say had triggered your curse today?”

“A needle prick,” Laslow said.

Xander stared.

Laslow flushed. “Ah, well, not exactly a needle prick, you see, it likely has something to do with iron and—Ah, I mean.”

Xander was still staring.  

“Needles,” Laslow finished lamely.

“Needles,” Xander echoed. He shook his head, looking regretful. “And here I had been insisting you spend hours letting Oboro get as close to sticking you full of pins as she possibly could without actually pricking you.”

Laslow chuckled, part humor and part embarrassment.

“I suppose,” he said. “I really am sorry, milord. I know I should have said something more, but…”

“You tried,” Xander said graciously. He squeezed Laslow’s hand, and Laslow’s heart leapt. “In your own way. I suspected all that talk of a needle phobia did have something more to it, but I didn’t want to press at the time. I thought you would come to me if it were truly relevant.”

Here Xander sighed and closed his eyes in the way he often did when he was annoyed or things did not go as planned, and Laslow ducked his head, his cheeks hot. But when Xander looked at him again, he did not seem at all angry or upset. He just looked honest.

“However, because this clearly needs to be spelled out for you,” Xander said. “I expect you to tell me in the future if you need to avoid something like this again. And not just because you’re the man I love.”

Laslow might have swooned. Probably a large part due to the exhaustion, but there was definite romantic lightheadedness in there too. The recurring gentle swipe of Xander’s thumb across the back of Laslow’s knuckles helped.

Xander continued, “There are always certain risks that must be taken to keep the peace, but had I known about your predicament, I would have never sent you to a tailor without further precautions. We would have figured something out. I would never want you or Peri placing yourselves in unnecessary danger. Especially not like the danger today.”

“I know, milord—”

“Xander.”

Laslow paused.

“Xander,” he said slowly, testing out the name without the title. A smile blossomed across his face with the sound. “I know you’d never want any unnecessary risks. It was my own fault for keeping it a secret before, but no more, I promise.”

Xander raised his eyebrows. “So there are no other curses waiting to leap at us from the shadows? Triggered by stubbing your toe, perhaps.”

Laslow laughed again, this time all happiness. He couldn’t stop smiling.

“No,” he said with another chuckle. “Not that I know of.”

“Good. Then I suppose there’s nothing keeping us from being together, is there?”

Laslow’s breath caught. Xander studied his expression carefully.

Out of all the surprises Laslow had faced this afternoon, this should not have been one of them, and yet it was.

“My father is… gone,” Xander said. “The kingdom is at peace, there is no need for secrecy after the events this afternoon…”

“Yes,” Laslow said as soon as Xander carefully trailed off. His chest felt full to bursting. “Yes, of course. If you’d have me.”

“Always." Xander's smile was not a common thing, and the sight of it was nearly too much to bear.

Laslow fell forward and buried his face in Xander’s shoulder, a newfound energy thrumming through his veins. Xander breathed in sharply, but his hands came up just as swiftly, pulling Laslow close. As soon as he felt the weight of Xander’s arms wrapped around him, Laslow’s eyes began to burn. His face grew even hotter.

“I’m just really happy,” he muttered into Xander’s shirt, unsure if Xander had noticed the way Laslow struggled to swallow his tears. They were still wearing the clothes from the ceremony. He’d nearly forgotten.

Out of all the possibilities he’d considered as a child, sitting upright in bed after another nightmare of what might happen if a needle ever touched his skin, none of the endings had ever been like this. And yet reality had turned out much better than any dream. Laslow was glad of it.

Xander’s cheek was pressed to the top of Laslow’s head when Xander said, “You thanked me for saving you, Laslow, but it is you who has saved me every day since the moment you appeared in my life.”

There was nothing Laslow could say to that. Nothing that could match Xander's incredible honest, at least. Xander didn’t seem to need an answer, however; he held Laslow in his warm embrace and they sat in silence until Laslow’s breathing finally evened itself out. Even then Xander didn’t let go. He might have been letting his own imagination of the thousand ways this afternoon could have gone run wild as well. Laslow still thought this to be the best ending.

Eventually Xander said, “In the spirit of honesty that seems to have come upon us today, would you mind telling me about your homeland?”

No, Laslow thought. He wouldn’t have minded telling the parts that were his to tell at all. But what was there to say? He thought about it.

“It was home,” Laslow finally said. “My mother had grown up there, as did I, until…”

Until a lot of things, really. But they were long since behind him. He lived in the here and now, in Nohr.

With Xander.

“Tell me about it,” Xander prompted. It wasn’t an order.

Laslow breathed in slowly, his lungs expanding with summer air. He closed his eyes and adjusted his position on Xander’s shoulder until his lips were nearly brushing Xander’s skin, his arms thrown loosely around Xander’s neck.

“Well,” he started. He felt warm and comfortable.“Once upon a time, there was a kingdom filled with ice and snow and hearty people, and among them lived the favored dancer of the western khan…”

**Author's Note:**

> Indigo: Because we're cheeky like that
> 
> Staring at Niles' butt: Odin has totally done that before don't lie to us.
> 
> Sake: Has many different kinds, mostly based on how "pure" or "unclouded" it can be. Not that cloudy sake is bad sake, just gives a different taste. Sake can also be brewed specifically for being served hot or cold.
> 
> Khans: It makes sense that the leaders of Regna Ferox would be immune to the curse because if they weren't assassination attempts would be too easy and that's not stable for a ruler. Plus, it's like a final test of strength for them.
> 
> Royal Icing: a type of icing used mainly on sugar cookies. It hardens when left out, so it's easy to make patterns and designs.
> 
> Extra Teacup: The Maids Know.


End file.
